Equilibrium
by Tobirion
Summary: Cloud is injured in an accident, and he is kicked out of Shin-Ra because of it. In order to stay in the program, he must spend a week working for Director Lazard while he heals. Lazard/Cloud


**This is a belated birthday present from myself to Cloud. I hope he likes it. :P I had it almost done at 11:45 PM on his birthday (having started around midnight the day before, or would it be that morning?), but didn't think I'd finish and post it in fifteen minutes and suddenly hated the ending and went crazy for a day or so and couldn't look at it anymore. But here we are, Lazard/Cloud! Woot! I've been dying to do this pairing for a long time, and figured it would be a good thing to do it for this wonderful occasion. And thanks to XxSephFan777xX for her help when I started freaking out. :P  
**

**And ugh, Lazard. I love him, but his character's pretty hard to write. Not really hard, just... confusing. Eh, I hope I did alright. And this Shin-Ra is partly made-up--I didn't feel like finding out what was on what floors, and just went with it. So. 8D**

**But one thing I like about their relationship here is that Lazard takes care of Cloud's physical health, and Cloud takes care of Lazard's mental health. I am such a fucking sap.**

**Happy (Belated) Birthday, Cloud! You deserve all the presents in the world. :)  
**

* * *

When Cloud came to, all he could think about was how fucking _bad_ his whole body felt.

He was lying down, which was weird. Hadn't he been in Materia theory? They had been casting with Materia for the first time. Right?

He shifted slightly, then groaned. Everything ached, especially his right leg. He could tell that his face was all swollen—he could see his puffy cheeks if he looked down really far.

Cloud lay there in silence for a while, trying to figure out exactly what the hell had happened. His right leg continued to throb, and he winced every time he tried to wiggle his foot.

He was patiently counting the ceiling tiles when he heard the door to the medical wing open, followed by footsteps. He turned his head the best he could and gave a weak smile to Zack and Angeal, who were worriedly inspecting him.

"You're awake!" Zack gasped happily, rushing to the bed and leaning over the immobilized cadet. He looked like he was going to hug him, but seemed to realize that would hurt Cloud and refrained.

Genesis and Sephiroth entered the tiny room next (which was really half-walls and half-curtain dividers), and Cloud struggled not to let on that he was overwhelmed. Sometimes he forgot that he was friends with four such high-ranking men.

"You look like shit," Genesis said before he could think about it.

Sephiroth gave him a sharp look and asked politely, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Sir," Cloud answered automatically, even though he was most definitely _not _fine. Someone snickered quietly at this.

Cloud croaked at Zack, "What happened?"

Zack sat on the edge of the bed. "Hoo, boy. Alright—well, there was a… materia _accident_, buddy. One of your classmates lost control of his Fire—which was mastered, actually, no one knows how he got his hands on that—and kinda, like, blew up a gas line. Which you were kinda standing near."

"…Ow," Cloud said after a pause. He supposed that he was lucky he was still alive, if something like that had happened. He blinked and asked the room at large, "How long have I been asleep?"

"It's been about… twenty-eight hours since the accident, Angeal answered, glancing at the clock on his PHS. Cloud frowned.

"Trust me," Zack said, grinning, "You didn't want to be awake for that surgery."

Now alarmed, Cloud blurted, "Surgery?"

Genesis snickered and pulled back the thin sheet covering his body. The gown he was wearing only reached his upper thigh, but he wasn't paying enough attention to be embarrassed.

His left leg was bruised in several places, and his right leg had a cast on it. It started about mid-thigh and went down to the middle of his shin. It was completely straight, so he couldn't bend his knee in the slightest. It was a bright, eye-popping lime green.

"Your leg _shattered_, Spiky. Lighten up—they were gonna amputate it."

Cloud looked up from the thing, eyes huge. General Sephiroth picked up and skimmed over a clipboard that was sitting in a plastic thing on the wall, then cleared his throat. "The damage to your leg was so severe that they do not want to risk using a Cure or the like," he informed him. "There would be a high chance of it not healing properly and bringing about complications. With the aid of some potion-based medication, and if you let it heal naturally," he gestured at the cast, "then you should be back to normal in a week and a few days, or so."

He was grateful for the information, but _that long_? "So I can't train for over a week?" he asked. "What am I supposed to do?"

All four suddenly looked uncomfortable. Cloud took it as a bad sign. He stared at Zack until he caved.

"Look, Cloud. Shin-Ra's sort of, err, kicked you out."

Cloud's jaw hit the floor.

"You cannot train and are of no use. Hindrances are removed," Sephiroth said briskly, not realizing the effect his words had on the Cadet. Genesis elbowed him in the side.

"Relax!" Zack said quickly, waving his arms around. "We'll find a way to keep you here. You've got potential, and it would be stupid for them to get rid of you. We'll think of something, alright?" Zack seemed to be assuring himself as much as Cloud, and ruffled his hair before tittering out of the room with a purpose. Sephiroth and Genesis left too, as did Angeal, after giving him a soft smile.

Cloud eased back against the pillows. Really, they were going to kick him out because he had been hurt by some stupid Cadet?

A nurse came in and explained the same things Sephiroth had, but also dabbed a little bit of Potion on his face. He couldn't drink it straight, because it could have fixed his leg wrong, but this really helped the swelling and cuts. He asked her if he was burned at all, and she said that they had started healing him before they realized that it posed a threat to his leg, and that the few small burns on his back and superficial cuts and scrapes were gone. Luckily, nothing bad had happened to his leg because of that.

He thanked her, she left, and Cloud stared at the ceiling some more. He couldn't go home now… he had made a promise to Tifa. He certainly hadn't made SOLDIER yet—he had only lasted a few months of Cadet training! His biggest 'accomplishment' so far had been befriending Zack, who in turn acquainted him with Genesis, Angeal and Sephiroth. He doubted that actually counted as anything.

He wouldn't cry, though. He had some powerful friends—they'd figure something out.

Reassured, Cloud relaxed and dozed until the four returned. Cloud sat up gingerly and looked at them expectantly. They looked slightly confused.

"We were gonna enroll you in this apprentice program thing for a week," Zack said finally. "You just—hey, your face looks loads better—help us out, and you'd have a purpose and they couldn't get rid of you. But when we tried, we found… someone else had already requested you for it."

"…Who?" Cloud prompted after a short pause on Zack's part.

"SOLDIER Director Lazard," Angeal answered for Zack. Cloud blinked. He knew SOLDIER had a Director, but he hadn't known his name. Lazard? Okay, but why would the Director want to keep him in Shin-Ra?

_I doubt that's the case, _he thought. _More likely the Director has been swamped with wok or something and could use the extra help._

"He's a really nice guy," Zack offered. Cloud nodded, still a bit confused, and Zack shrugged. "At least you get to stay," the First reminded him.

Cloud beamed, and someone chuckled. Zack pulled a few permanent markers out of his pocket that he had swiped especially for the occasion and tossed one to everyone but Cloud. He uncapped the one in his hand and advanced, ripping the newly-replaced sheet off. "Can I sign it, now?"

He let them scribble on his cast, preparing himself for working with the Director. It wouldn't be that bad.

At least he wasn't headed home in shame, right?

- - - - - - - - - -

Lazard gently combed his bangs back from his face, trying to read a review of one SOLDIER's performance in a last mission. His knee was bouncing up and down almost involuntarily, but he couldn't stop.

He was impatient.

The poor boy was probably in pain right now, he reminded himself. He felt an abrupt pang of sympathy, but his excitement didn't dim in the slightest. For a little over a week… he'd _have_ him. He was an extremely busy man, with no time for frivolous things and romance and the like, but he had found a clever way to get around that. The boy was a hard worker, he knew, from secretly observing his classes and training sessions, and he really did need some extra help…

Lazard yawned, rubbing his eyes and continuing to send emails to other Department Heads and reading that irritating review. He couldn't _focus_, not when he was finally about to meet him up close—

Berating himself softly for getting distracted, Lazard clicked _send_ and waited for Tseng's reply, writing a hasty paragraph at the bottom of the review. He glanced at the clock, then scowled at his behavior.

He only had to wait until tomorrow.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Dammit," Cloud swore as he barely avoided falling for the tenth time. He'd never really thought about it before, but crutches were a _hell_ of a lot harder to use than he had imagined they would be. His right leg was comically jutting out, a perfectly straight obnoxiously green line. He could only put weight on his left leg, and even doing that hurt a little bit.

He was on his way to the fiftieth floor, where the Director was. It was tough, trying to get around, but he managed. He always did.

Cloud made it to the elevator and jabbed the right button, leaning against the wall and sighing. He looked down and inspected his cast; there were only about twenty signatures on it, but it was twenty more than he thought he'd get. 'ZACK' was written in big bubble letters on his shin. Sephiroth's neat signature was near his knee, and Angeal's name was on the back of his thigh. Cloud started when he saw a crude drawing of a penis at the bottom, and immediately knew it had been Genesis's doing.

A few were from his fellow Cadets, and he even had a little note from the dumbass who had nearly killed him. Cloud rolled his eyes and got out of the elevator clumsily.

The fiftieth floor wasn't as technologically advanced as the forty-ninth, but it was still cool. There were conference rooms and offices all over the place. _Sephiroth's _office. Angeal and Genesis's. Zack's was on the forty-eighth, though.

He made his way to a metal door that said 'DIRECTOR' above it. Although the door was electronic and you only had to scan an I.D. card to get in, it was still common courtesy to knock. Cloud balanced on his good foot and did so, waiting until he heard a faint 'enter' before flashing his card. The door opened, and Cloud blinked.

The room itself didn't match the hallway. There was a carpet, and the only high-tech metal in the room was the computer and the door, which he thought looked terribly out of place. There were some packed bookshelves and a potted plant on a windowsill, but Cloud stopped admiring the view and spotted a figure sitting at the desk.

He snapped a salute, and promptly fell over. Almost. He tilted, grabbed one of his crutches and pushed off of it. Then he started falling in the _other _direction, and jumped onto his hurt foot. Cloud screeched as pain shot up that leg, then swore loudly and hopped around on his good leg to one of the bookcases. He tripped over one of the crutches on the way and had to catch himself with his bad foot again, once more letting out an involuntary shout. He finally gripped a shelf with both hands, big green leg looking absurd.

Cloud clutched the wood, no longer in danger of falling. He panted there for a few seconds, getting over his little scare, then let out a gusty sigh.

The office was silent, and Cloud turned, plain horror on his face. He had totally forgotten where he was. The Director was sitting at his desk, staring at him with surprised eyes.

Cloud tried saluting once more, but went off-balance and had to hold onto the shelf again. "Sorry, Sir," he squeaked, humiliated. He was such a failure… a _klutzy _failure. He was an embarrassment to Shin-Ra.

The Director smiled a little at him and stood. He was a young man, blond. Very pretty, Cloud noticed with a blush. Luckily, he was red already so it went unnoticed. His hair was parted, and he had glasses that looked more like sunglasses at first, except they were clear.

He was an elegant man, with a blue pinstripe jacket and white pants. He even had white gloves and a gold chain neatly hanging out from his jacket! Cloud suspected it belonged to some kind of fancy pocket watch.

Cloud felt utterly ridiculous in comparison. He had his Cadet uniform on from the waist up, minus the pauldrons and rifle harnesses and belts. Pants were impossible to get on over the cast, and he only had a pair of small black shorts on that didn't even reach mid-thigh. That and the obnoxious green cast surely made him look incredibly stupid.

The Director swished his perfectly-cut hair out of his face, and Cloud became self-conscious of his own wild head of spikes. The man didn't laugh at him though, and retrieved his fallen crutches for him.

"Cadet Strife, I presume?" He asked as he handed Cloud a crutch. His voice was smooth, with the faintest hint of a manly rumble or purr, and Cloud flushed again. Being a hormonal teenager sucked. Cloud tucked it under his armpit and nodded embarrassedly. "Yes, Sir."

The older blond held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said cordially, handshake firmer than Cloud had been expecting. "I am Lazard Deusericus, Director of SOLDIER."

All aflutter because of the man's manners, Cloud could only nod weakly. Lazard stepped back, and Cloud managed to stay upright. The Director studied his hurt leg and remarked, raising a blond brow, "That must not be very pleasant."

Cloud realized the man was actually _talking _to him and said gravely, "No, Sir. It isn't."

Lazard gave him a small, secretive smile and went back to his desk. He gestured at a soft-looking chair opposite it, and Cloud hobbled to it and fell back gratefully.

"No doubt you wonder why you're here," Lazard said, fingering a pen in his with his gloved fingers. "I heard that you had been injured, and figured that you would be removed from the program—it happens often, regretfully. You have great potential, Cadet." The Director gave Cloud a long look, sizing him up. "It would not do for you to leave Shin-Ra because of something like this."

Cloud's brain was smoking. He was still hung up on the man's one sentence. Potential? Hah! Everyone knew that he was one of the worst Cadets in the program! But whatever—he wasn't going to argue with him.

"And I certainly could use the extra help," Lazard added as an afterthought.

Cloud beamed at his superior. "Thank you, Sir," he said happily. If the Director thought he had potential, then who was he to disagree? The man before him obviously knew what was up, if he was the _Director._

Cloud's happiness was infectious, and Lazard smiled widely. It almost looked like he was in a good mood for some other reason than Cloud coming to be his work-slave for a week, but it really wasn't Cloud's business. "You're welcome. Now, first I need your help with some organization."

Practically climbing up the chair, Cloud shakily stood and nodded, determined to do a good job for the man who had saved his career. He crutched (because that was the only word for what he was doing with these things) his way to a filing cabinet.

Lazard opened the top drawer, and Cloud choked. There were files, sure, but they were all over the place. Papers were crumpled into balls and just sitting there. And… was that a _Pop-Tart _sticking out of that one folder?

Without realizing it, Cloud was gaping at the Director. Lazard pushed his glasses higher up on his nose in one smooth movement and asked, "Yes?"

Cloud became aware of how _tall _the man was. Actually, no… he wasn't exceptionally tall, but the pinstripes made him _seem _big. That, or maybe it was just the man's presence.

"Um," Cloud said dumbly, "I would've thought that you were, uh, a neat person, Sir." He realized how awful that sounded and began to blabber and spurt things, but Lazard said quietly, "One would think. I am many things that one would not expect. Remember that."

Cloud swallowed and nodded. Lazard smiled at him and gestured at the mess. "I've been busy lately, and things have gotten out of hand. In here is a folder for every member of SOLDIER." Cloud's mouth fell open.

"For the most part," Lazard continued, "things are in alphabetical order. But there are some loose papers floating around; I need those to go into their correct spot." He strode to his desk, picked up a stack of papers and set them down on top of the cabinet. "These have to find their way in there as well."

He surveyed the Cadet through his glasses and said in a surprisingly militant voice, "Can you do that for me?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" Cloud barked back, completely terrified. So, it seemed Lazard wasn't just some sham of a leader with a desk job and who didn't know shit about SOLDIER.

Lazard nodded and went back to his desk. Cloud frowned, deciding to work on the bottom cabinet first, because it hurt to stand. He had only been released yesterday, around lunchtime. He had slept over in Angeal and Zack's apartment on the couch, because Zack didn't want him in the barracks with a broken leg. Too dangerous, he had said.

He was still easily exhausted and sore, and he couldn't bend his leg; was he just supposed to fall over? He wasn't too keen on that idea.

After a minute of unsuccessfully trying to sit, Lazard asked, "Do you need help with something?"

Cloud flushed, embarrassed. "…I can't sit down, Sir." Lazard chuckled softly and got up again. Cloud stood still nervously, watching.

"Hold both crutches in your hand," he instructed. Cloud did so and wobbled—he reached out and held onto the man's shoulder to steady himself.

Lazard put an arm under his thighs and another around his waist and lifted him up briefly before gently lowering Cloud to the carpet. The hand that wasn't holding the crutches was gripping Lazard's collar, Cloud having slung his arm around the man's neck. He could feel Lazard's breath against his ear.

When Cloud was situated, Lazard let go and asked, "Is this acceptable?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you."

Cloud let out his held breath when he was left alone. You couldn't blame him—Lazard was extremely good-looking. He was fine-featured and was blessed with a pair of blue eyes that were paler than his own, but pretty all the same, in a different way.

Cloud shook his head and got down to business.

It really wasn't all that bad. Cloud developed a system and had a good three-fourths of the bottom drawer done in about an hour and a half. He kept a pile of trash and the like he found to the right.

There were three big drawers in total. Luckily, the folders weren't that thick, so they all fit. He came across Sephiroth's and desperately wanted to look at it—it was over an inch thick! But he managed not to and continued working.

Lazard started chatting with him after a while. He wanted to know how he was doing in his classes, how he liked Shin-Ra, how he met Zack, what he thought of the food, and all sorts of little stuff, too. Cloud answered everything honestly, finding he rather liked the man's presence. Lazard was, although very subconsciously calculating and made Cloud a little bit nervous whenever he gazed at him, quite nice.

When he finished the second drawer, he exhausted himself trying to stand to get to the third, and Lazard had to carry him to the chair he had sat in earlier. He was embarrassed, but was impressed by the unenhanced man's strength as he dragged Cloud and the chair back in front of the filing cabinet so he could sit down if he felt tired.

_Such a caring, romantic man, _Cloud giggled to himself.

When Cloud eventually finished it was around three o'clock, and he was starving. He had eaten a small breakfast before leaving Zack's apartment, but he had missed lunch. His stomach growled, and Lazard looked up sharply. He had been rapidly scribbling on papers or typing up a storm all day.

The blond man glanced at his clock, and said, sounding deeply apologetic, "I'm sorry to have kept you this long without a break. You're welcome to leave. I'll see you tomorrow." He went straight back to his intense work, and Cloud paused.

He felt sort of bad that Lazard was so busy, but he didn't know him, and he wasn't about to stick around.

He bade the man a quick goodbye and left the room, but he was called back in. Cloud curiously stuck his head back in and tried to salute.

"Thank you," Lazard said, sounding grateful and happy and maybe a little bit of something else, though no emotion was too pronounced. Cloud flushed and said it was 'no problem.' He left after that, nearly falling down when his crutches landed awkwardly every few steps.

That night he went over his day with Angeal and Zack. Zack kept calling him 'Lizard,' which made him laugh. They assured him that it wouldn't be that bad, and he believed them. It really wasn't. It could have been much, much worse.

That night, he dreamed about calling him 'Zard.'

For the next few days Cloud helped Lazard in his office. Occasionally he'd run the man an errand, but it was only ever to the other offices on the floor. It took too much time and effort on Cloud's part to crutch somewhere else.

He was getting closer to the Director, too. Enough that he knew some things troubled him. Lazard never spoke about whatever it was, though, and Cloud didn't ask.

Lazard was enjoying his time spent with the Cadet, maybe a little too much so. He didn't let on, though, but every time Cloud entered his office in the morning with a new pair of those little shorts on and a shy smile on his face, his heart stopped. He'd have to make his move soon, before he healed and went back to normal life at Shin-Ra, but he couldn't, not just yet. _Patience_, he chanted to himself at least forty times a day.

One thing that Cloud was confused about was the _staring_. He'd get prickles on the back of his neck when he'd be doing something, and when he glanced at Lazard, he'd be intently doing something again. But then he'd look away, and he'd get the feeling again. He vaguely wondered why Lazard kept staring at him; it was beginning to creep him out. Of course, _he _was still allowed to stare at the man all he wanted, but… he had a nasty feeling that the Director was laughing at his ridiculous cast, short shorts and bare left leg. Granted, he had nice legs, he knew, but… yeesh.

On the fourth day, Lazard brought Cloud to the Briefing room. He'd never been in there before, and he gaped like a child when he entered. Lazard smiled fondly at that, but his expression sobered as he explained quietly, "A number of SOLDIERs are being sent out today."

Cloud got it. They'd have to get their missions from Lazard. He'd never thought about it, but what if someone _really_ didn't want their mission and got… violent or something?

Frowning, Cloud resolved that if it came down to it, he'd protect the Director. He was his superior, yes, but also a tentative friend. His cast was fucking _heavy—_he could probably bludgeon a Third with it, if he got lucky.

Lazard put him to work on a computer (but not the main one). He was doing more filing, but was deleting all the things Lazard didn't need any more, particularly those concerning deceased SOLDIERs.

They would still be in the database; Cloud was just getting rid of some of the stuff that wasn't relevant anymore. Recommendations couldn't help you get promoted if you were dead, could they?

Throughout the day, SOLDIERs came in and received their mission orders from Lazard. Cloud couldn't help staring—Lazard sat in that metal chair like he _owned _it, that and the rest of the company. (Cloud, of course, had no idea what an adorable sight he made himself, hunched over the computer with an eerily concentrated look on his face as he worked.) The huge screen behind him showed details about each mission, and Cloud was entranced. One day, when he was older, he'd have _this _to look forward to.

Cloud did his job efficiently, though he was surprised at how _much _he had to do. Did Lazard do all this by himself usually? That man needed an assistant.

He heard angry murmurs at one point, and he discretely turned his head so he could see what was going on. He was tucked at desk in a corner, while Lazard sat at the huge main one.

A SOLDIER Second was looking _pissed_. Cloud tensed, almost making good on his promise to protect the Director, but then the SOLDIER broke down and started crying. Cloud paused, confused, and decided to just watch.

Lazard looked old and tired as he spoke softly to the man, then handed him a folder with information about his mission and put a hand on his shoulder. The SOLDIER shrugged it off, gave a messy salute with no feeling behind it and left, not saying anything else.

After he was gone, Lazard put his head in his hands and was still.

An old self-hate and repulsion coiled in his stomach, and he fought the urge to be sick. If that man died… it would be on _his _conscience. He couldn't take this much longer—more SOLDIERs were dying every day, with new monster breeds and revolts and eco-terrorists, and it was _he _who sent them out there. Lazard rubbed circles into his temples, trying to keep back the migrane he knew would appear soon enough.

Cloud debated going over there, but eventually decided against it. He was done with his job, so he grabbed his crutches and left, calling over his shoulder that Sir, he'd be _right_ back.

He went to the executive's lounge and asked around until he found what kind of coffee the man liked. He took a large cup of it back, but it was slow going. He almost spilled it more than once, but managed to get back to the Briefing room without an accident.

Lazard looked up as he entered, and smiled a little when he saw what was in Cloud's hand. Cloud was so sweet and innocent and beautiful, and it was certainly a rarity in the company.

Cloud was moving painfully slow, and Lazard got up and met him halfway across the room, accepting the coffee and letting Cloud hobble behind him back to the desk.

Pleased when Lazard took a sip and was surprised it was what he usually drank, Cloud leant against the desk while Lazard sat at it. He didn't say anything, but tried to telepathically send the message to Lazard that he would listen, if he had something to say.

For a while Lazard just clacked away at the keyboard, but he stopped eventually and said softly, "…Sometimes I hate my job."

Cloud was happy that Lazard felt complied to talk to him—a nobody, nothing.

"Why?" he asked innocently.

Lazard smiled, but it was bitter. He gestured at the computer, then around at the room. "I send men to go fight," he grunted, sounding like he had kept this holed up inside for a long time, "and often to their deaths. Kircher's-" Cloud could only assume that was the SOLDIER Second, "-child is being born tomorrow, or the day after. His mission is near suicide, for three weeks minimum." He sighed heavily, breath hissing through his teeth.

Cloud thought about that. The Director had it a lot harder than he had thought. He frowned, though. "It's not _your _fault, Sir," he countered. Lazard stared at him, composed features curious.

"Everyone has a boss. It's not _you _who is giving them their missions—I mean," he growled, frustrated and biting his lip, "you _are_, but you can't help that. It's your job to. And… and it's their job to go. We all signed up for this. Don't feel guilty, Sir."

It wasn't as eloquent as he wanted it to be, so he smiled softly to show Lazard he really meant what he had said.

Lazard gazed at him for a long time before nodding, and taking another sip of his coffee. "…Thank you, Cloud," he said, noticing the way the boy's face lit up as he said his first name. "I needed that. Now, before he leaves, can you give that to the General?"

Lazard tilted his head at a packet and a few papers, and Cloud scooped them up. He didn't see Sephiroth, but guessed that the man had come in to get his assignment, had sensed that he shouldn't disturb them and had waited out in the hallway.

He didn't bring his crutches, and awkwardly waddled to the door. He couldn't wear his boots on his injured leg's foot and had just been wearing a sock on that foot all week. He nearly slipped, but righted himself and eagerly went through the sliding door, nodded at a SOLDIER who was getting an item out of those fancy item-pod things and went through another door into the 49th floor's wide hallways.

Sephiroth was leaning against the wall right beside the door, and Cloud almost missed him. He carefully saluted, keeping his balance, and held the papers out. "Sir."

The General took them and gave Cloud a long look, smiling finally. Cloud gave a shy smile back and was about to go back into the room when the General drew him into a one-armed hug and said into his ear, "You're a good man, Cloud. Heal well, while I'm gone. I'll see you in a few days."

He let go, smirked at Cloud's expression and left in a long swish of black and silver. Cloud just barely remembered to call 'good luck, Sir!' after him.

Cloud coughed, ignoring a gawking Third and returned to Lazard. 'Good man?' No, he was a normal man, who only did what he was supposed to do.

Lazard smiled at him when he went back in, wider and more genuine than the ones he usually gave him. Cloud was glad that, normal man or not, he was what he was, and he could make people smile like that.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Nooo," Cloud moaned. "I'll explode if I eat anything else."

Lazard sighed good-naturedly and told the waitress that no, they wouldn't like to have dessert. Cloud gave a sigh of relief and resisted the urge to burp.

Lazard had brought him out to lunch, it being his last day with him. The cast came off tomorrow, and Cloud was thankful. The medicine he had to keep taking was totally gross, and he was sick of sleeping in Angeal and Zack's apartment. Genesis had joined them because Sephiroth was away, which was _bad_, and it was proving to be exceedingly difficult to hide those 'dreams' he kept getting about Lazard. Zack had been snickering at him all morning, but luckily the Puppy was the only one who knew.

The restaurant was tucked away on the forty-sixth floor. He never would have guessed that it was there. Apparently only people like the Director or Heads of Departments were allowed to eat there, though. Cloud was lucky guests were allowed.

Lazard politely held one of Cloud's crutches as the small blond got out of his seat and tucked one under his arm. Lazard handed him the other one, and they were off.

Cloud was getting good with the things, just in time to not have to use them anymore.

He was gamely moving along, and missed it at first when Lazard stopped short. He turned around, finding the Director back about ten feet, staring at something down the hallway.

Backtracking, Cloud realized Lazard was watching President Shin-Ra and his son, Rufus. They were going into the restaurant that they had just vacated, looking mighty and quite snobbish, in Cloud's opinion.

Rufus's promotion to Vice-President had hit Lazard hard. He knew Rufus deserved it more than he did (probably), but having him be so high up on the Shin-Ra food chain without doing much while he wasn't and he had worked tirelessly for years to get where he was pissed him off. It was an old, bitter anger he held inside, directed at the two of them, but he doubted it would ever go away.

Lazard's fists were clenched and remained that way until the two men disappeared. He faced Cloud again, and sighed at the questioning look, "…Family problems."

Cloud's eyes went wide as he studied Lazard's features. "…You mean…"

"Yes," Lazard answered briskly, turning and striding towards the elevator without another word.

Cloud knew what it was like to not have a dad. But, he reasoned, it must've been worse having a dad that didn't recognize you as his son. He surely would have known something if Lazard was publicly the President's son. But he didn't, which meant the President didn't know it himself, or he didn't _want _people to know.

He caught up to the Director and hopped on one foot so he could transfer his crutches to his hand and grab for Lazard's with the other. It wasn't a romantic gesture or anything—Cloud was wise to keep his newfound crush hidden—but was instead a gesture of comfort, of someone wanting to share the pain. Gaia, he was such an obnoxious little sap. How did people stand to be around him?

Cloud still didn't know much about Lazard, but he wanted to. The Director was a kind man, a kind man with a brutal, exhausting, damning job that stressed him out and depressed him. And that made Cloud sad.

He squeezed, giving Lazard a sad, but understanding look when the taller man glanced down, looking confused.

Cloud belatedly realized he was way, way, _way _below Lazard in rank and was treating him like an _equal_ and apologetically stuttered, still hopping on his good foot, "S-Sir!"

Lazard moved his hand away, but then it returned to ruffle his hair. "You're a nice boy, Cloud," he said. "SOLDIER will be lucky to have you join its ranks one day."

Flushing a little at this, Cloud averted his gaze and used his crutches again, following the Director. They stopped again when they found a crowd of people around the elevator, all yelling about how a SOLDIER and a Turk were trapped in the elevator ten stories up. Lazard's regal features turned down into a frown for a moment, and then he said, "I suppose we're taking the stairs."

They pushed past people and entered the stairwell. Lazard immediately started going up, but Cloud paused. He had never tried steps with his crutches before… it wouldn't be too hard, would it?

Cloud, being the klutz he was, got up the first two stairs and fell backwards, _hard_.

Lazard surveyed him briefly, then ran a hand through his hair and gave a soft grunt of amusement. He slung the dazed Cadet onto his back and grabbed the crutches, starting up the steps.

"Sir!" Cloud gasped, starting to struggle. "Y-You don't-"

"I'm not spending an hour waiting for you to crawl upstairs, Strife."

Cloud's splutters subsided, but he remained tense. Lazard, who was higher-ranking than even Sephiroth, was _carrying him_—he certainly hadn't imagined _this _at the beginning of his time serving the Director.

His cast was heavy. Lazard wasn't enhanced, but he was gamely trudging on. Maybe he worked out? Cloud relaxed a little, trying to gage the men's muscle tone in his back, which was pressed against his chest.

…Definitely worked out. Cloud couldn't say he was surprised; Lazard had served in the army once upon a time, right? Or something like that?

It was only four flights of stairs to their floor, which wasn't that heroic and awesome compared to the things SOLDIERs had done, but Cloud was smitten.

When Lazard finally put him down, Cloud was almost high. He had been secretly taking big gulps of Lazard-scented air, which was definitely tastier than normal air.

The Director pushed his glasses up his nose, an action that Cloud was finding to be unbearably sexy. Gaia, he had just _met _him, and already, he—

Lazard handed Cloud his crutches, ruffled his hair gently (not like Zack's wild hair-ruffling) and began heading for his office. Cloud followed, a happy, glazed look in his eyes.

After scanning his I.D. card, Lazard entered the room, making sure the doors stayed open until Cloud was inside. Then he sat at the desk, running his fingers through his hair again. How _badly_ Cloud wanted to do that!

Cloud hovered nervously, not sure what to do. When was he supposed to leave? Not right now, he hoped; he didn't _want _to leave yet.

After pacing awkwardly, tapping his crutches against things, Cloud realized Lazard was staring at him. Cloud giggled guiltily, then got an idea.

"Do you have a permanent marker?"

"…Yes," Lazard answered, pulling one out of his desk.

Cloud smiled shyly and asked, "Will you sign my cast, Sir?"

Lazard tilted his head, somehow looking impossibly cute and commanding at the same time. "Aren't you getting it removed tomorrow?"

"Yes, Sir. But I'm still gonna keep it… for the, uh, memories."

Smiling, Lazard said, "I would be honored to." He cleared off his desk and urged Cloud to sit on the one end of it, then gently took his right leg and propped it up on the polished wood so that Cloud's socked foot hung off the opposite end. Lazard looked thoughtful for a moment, gave Cloud a quick glance under his eyelashes that almost stopped the younger one's heart, and moved closer to him.

Lazard pushed up the fabric of his pants so it was right against his hip so that the very tip of the cast was showing. It was clear of writing, as no one else had tried getting that close to Cloud's unmentionables to write there, but Lazard didn't seem to mind.

He bent and scribbled something on the very top of it, the little vibrations of the marker on the weird fiberglass-looking green stuff on the cast going straight for Cloud's groin. The man's hair—surprisingly soft, and smelling every bit as good as it had on the stairs—tickled his thigh, and Cloud gave a sort of noiseless giggle and squirmed away a bit. He felt like a naughty schoolgirl, sitting on a desk like this, and he resolved to get down before he got hard and had to answer a bunch of awkward questions.

Lazard drew back, and Cloud examined what he had done. In elegant cursive, only half as distorted and blotchy as everyone else's, save Sephiroth's, was Lazard's title: 'Lazard Deusericus, Director of SOLDIER.' Cloud was more or less even with Lazard's face, as he was sitting on the tall desk, and smiled widely.

"Thank you, Sir," he said happily.

Lazard put two of his hands on the desk after a moment, imposing himself a little bit more on the Cadet, whose brows furrowed.

Cloud was proving to be some sort of therapist in disguise, using his innocence to calm the angry, bitter beast inside him that loathed Shin-Ra and adored it at the same time. He was just about the cutest little thing he had ever seen, of course, but he had known that before he had requested Cloud to help him during his recovery period. He had made the right decision, choosing to keep Cloud in Shin-Ra.

He had carried him a few times, sure, and had helped him when his leg was becoming a hindrance, but he didn't want Cloud to feel like he wasn't any less interested in him than he was, because he was going _crazy, _had been for months ever since he had seen him training for the first time. And it was the boy's last day with him—if he didn't do something now, he probably wouldn't get the chance to again.

Lazard reached up, gloved fingers toying with a few of the spikes around the boy's ears, thumbs gently stroking his cheeks. Cloud's eyes were wide, but then they fluttered slightly. A promising reaction.

He dragged his right thumb across Cloud's lips, pulling down the bottom one. When he let go it gently snapped back against his teeth. Quite a temptation, this boy was.

"…Sir," Cloud squeaked at length, looking like he wasn't sure to be confused or happy or what.

"Hmm?" Lazard used one of his hands to push his glasses up, realizing by now that Cloud loved that.

Cloud was doing such wonders for him, even though it probably wasn't obvious, and he wanted to do something groundbreaking in return, _own _the boy sitting on his desk, long pale legs and big blue eyes and hideous green cast and all.

"Do you know why I requested that you stay here and not go home?" Lazard murmured, right into Cloud's ear.

Cloud blinked, shaking his head to clear the fuzz a little. Was Lazard really? What? Since when—

"Er…no," he said, mouth almost working by itself.

Lazard tilted his head up with a slender finger, and the corner of his mouth curved. "Because I didn't _want_ you to leave," he said after a pause. "I've watched you in training before, and when I heard about the accident, I filed the paperwork immediately."

Cloud thought that was kind of sweet, in a way. But he had no idea Lazard could be so…_seductive; _so far he'd been a stressed-out man who he'd never thought had been paying attention to him half the time he was there. He realized he had been wrong, wrong, wrong.

Tired of talking (for now, because Cloud was the first person he had been able to freely talk to in a very long time), Lazard cupped Cloud's face with both hands and pressed their lips together, softly and chastely at first, but quickly going in for more, as Fair would undoubtedly come looking for Cloud soon enough.

Lazard usually wasn't such a gentle person in matters like this. He was a predator in bed, taking and seducing and ignoring those softer feelings that he didn't have time for. But Cloud was the kind of boy, he knew, who wouldn't want something like that even though they could most definitely handle it (Cloud was by no means a weakling). Besides, it was a nice change, treating Cloud (or anyone) gently.

Cloud's arms wound around the blue coat he had thought about so often, feeling Lazard's surprisingly slender waist and lean muscle through the fabric.

Lazard was so perfect, with his sharp outfits and interesting glasses and hair, less of a bright, vibrant yellow than his was, and he really didn't know why the _Director of SOLDIER _was doing this—but a tongue wormed its way into his mouth and he stopped thinking, just letting himself feel.

When their kiss wound down, Lazard muttered something so softly that Cloud couldn't hear it, and then the older man sagged against the desk.

"Do you know how much trouble I'm going to get into if anyone finds out?" he asked, but his eyes were hazy and not alarmed in the slightest.

Cloud reached out and gently removed the glasses from Lazard's face, carefully folding them and putting them to the side. With them off, Lazard really did bear a striking resemblance to Rufus Shin-Ra. But he could tell they had different mothers—there were subtle differences, like the overall sharpness of Lazard's face versus the slight roundness of Rufus'.

Lazard twisted his fingers in the spikes in the back of Cloud's head and kissed him again. At first it had been embarrassing—lusting after a Cadet, but Cloud was mature for his age, as he had found out, and he supposed it really didn't matter, anyway.

Five minutes later Zack burst into the room, screeching about how he had gotten stuck in an elevator with Reno. Lazard quickly and smoothly drew back from Cloud, looking unruffled and as composed as ever. Cloud's shirt was still pushed up to his neck, and he fixed his clothes hurriedly, trying to stop his panting and holding his hands in front of his tented shorts.

Zack blinked at them and slowly backed out of the room, making a show of looking horrified. Cloud nearly went into hysterics, but a glance from Lazard told him the silly First was just joking and he calmed down.

When the door closed, Lazard gave a soft huff of amusement and kissed the boy on his desk again, feeling incredibly smug when Cloud made a soft noise in the back of his throat and pulled a little on his tie.

Feeling playful, Lazard said in a coldly intimidating voice, "Having relations with a superior officer. I could report you for that."

Cloud's eyes went wide, and he seemed to forget that Lazard would have had to report _himself _in, too. His expression made Lazard laugh quietly.

"I'm a hypocrite," he whispered.

Cloud giggled and tugged on the gold chain looping across Lazard's jacket, pulling out the pocket watch and marveling at it. He tucked it back into place and said, "If you don't tell anyone, I won't."

Lazard scooped him off the desk and handed him his crutches. He gave Cloud's back a gentle push and said in his 'Director voice,' "Go, before I end up having to report myself."

Stopping in the doorway, Cloud stuck his head back in and asked, "…I'll see you again, right, Sir?"

The Director was fanning his slightly-red face, pulling papers out of his desk and trying to get his mind back on track for working. He frowned at the question. "Of course."

Cloud smiled brightly, saluted, and left.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Get it _away _from me!" Cloud shrieked, clawing at Zack. Angeal and Genesis were trying to hold him down, but he was squirming too much for them to do much of anything.

"It doesn't cut skin!" The doctor was at the end of his patience. He held up that scary, evil-looking pizza cutter _thing_, and Cloud wailed again, managing to sock Genesis in the jaw by accident.

Cloud was finally held down, and he spat at the doctor, "If it cuts through something _that hard_, then how does it not cut skin?"

The doctor didn't even bother answering, cleanly cutting off Cloud's cast, ignoring the hysterical screaming of the Cadet. He made to throw it out, but Cloud hissed at him and demand he keep it.

Zack started making fun of him at one point; he clubbed him over the head with it, and all was good again. His right leg was a little bit weak, but it was almost completely healed. It was an incredible feeling, just walking around normally and not having to use those Gaia-damned crutches.

He found Lazard deep in conversation with a Sergeant on his way back to the barracks. He was standing straight-backed, looking proper and knowledgeable and completely sexy, and Cloud almost tripped over his feet as he passed.

The Director's eyes met his briefly, and Lazard gave him a tiny, private smile and a lecherous once-over before returning his attention to the SOLDIER. Cloud tightened his grip on his now-cut-in-half cast and happily continued on his way, feeling lighter than air.

He didn't really want to return to training—he wanted to help Lazard file, organize his stuff some more and kiss him, if he was lucky. He debated purposely getting hurt in another accident so he could spend more time with him, but immediately declared himself an idiot for thinking something like that.

He'd see Lazard soon, and this time, he wouldn't have to be injured for it to happen.


End file.
